


The End of Days

by Laurielove



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Desperation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Historical Inaccuracy, Love, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sex, Vicbourne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23445043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurielove/pseuds/Laurielove
Summary: A pestilence has taken hold of the land. Following her own Prime Minister's commands, Victoria is isolated in Buckingham Palace. In this strangest of times, alone, anxious and bored, she finds herself missing the company of her closest advisor desperately. Could he be feeling the same way?First time Victoria/Melbourne. A little Vicbourne smuttiness to relieve the craziness we're all going through. x
Relationships: William Lamb 2nd Viscount Melbourne/Victoria of the United Kingdom (1819-1901)
Comments: 89
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING - This is a fic prompted by current events relating to Covid-19. Victoria and Melbourne find themselves in the same situation we do. If this is a topic you find upsetting, it may not be the fic for you, although it's worth noting that in this nobody gets sick.  
> This is a story, escapism, not advice on how to behave. DO NOT BEHAVE LIKE THIS. DO NOT VISIT PEOPLE. DO NOT HAVE SEX WITH ANYONE BEYOND YOUR REGULAR PARTNER IN YOUR HOUSEHOLD. STAY HOME, SAVE LIVES.

Victoria distractedly stroked Dash’s ears. It was becoming tedious, she could only admit, although she was so much more fortunate than most; a harsh stab of guilt made her wince.

The city had been quarantined for two weeks now, with no end in sight. A pestilence had taken hold with a strength rarely seen. Deaths were on the rise and every person in London and beyond had been ordered by the Prime Minister to stay in their homes and not venture out except for essential business.

Victoria sat looking out over the still immaculate lawns of Buckingham Palace and sighed. For her, there was little hardship. She had food aplenty, rooms still to explore in a great palace, large gardens and space to step outside. She thought of her subjects and how little she could do for them. She had suggested having some visit the gardens, but it had been dismissed out of hand. She had wondered if they could open one wing as a hospital, but everyone had looked askance and the conversation had been moved on swiftly.

She felt so very useless.

And amidst the boredom there was also a fear. A fear for her family, a fear for herself, she selfishly acknowledged. What would the future hold?

And the isolation brought with it something else. She missed _him_.

He had been unable to visit for days now, himself quarantined at Dover House, although they wrote continuously. Lord M had been busying himself with his book on St Chrysostom, he said, and had existed on a diet of bread and cheese and claret. He had not seen a soul for days. He too was quite well.

_Oh, she missed him._

The transmission of the disease was still unknown. Most still ascribed it to the miasma of bad air hanging in London and elsewhere, although some eminent scientists and thinkers (including Lord M) dismissed this notion, believing it to be transfered from person to person. For this reason, it had been decreed that people were not permitted closer than a few feet from each other.

Her staff barely approached her, leaving food at a safe distance. Penge would inquire from the doorway of her needs, and the only person who came close to touching her was Skerrett when helping her to dress, and she too was isolated from all other staff for that purpose.

The Queen was quite well, beyond well in fact, and was, with the strictest isolation imposed on her more than anyone else in the country, the last person likely to catch the wretched thing.

She did not know what she would do without their letters. The little errand boys - and, fortunately, the disease seemed not to affect the healthy young - who scurried back and forth with their correspondence ensured they kept in constant contact. Today she had written almost hourly.

_Dear Lord M,_

_I am most afflicted with boredom, but more than this, I miss your counsel most dreadfully. And your conversation. And the laughter we used to share. Oh, dearest Lord M, how I miss you._

_Yours with devoted fondness,_

_Victoria._

He wrote back within the hour.

_‘Lord Melbourne presents his humble duty to Her Majesty and trusts that she is well. Lord Melbourne can confirm that he too is well, although, like Her Majesty, a trifle bored. He too misses the conversation and companionship of past times._

_Your devoted servant, Melbourne.’_

_-xox-_

_‘Oh, Lord M! Please please, how can we resolve this? I shall go mad if I cannot see you! Victoria.’_

_-xox-_

_‘Lord Melbourne presents his humble duty to Her Majesty and detects her desperation, which, he assures her he shares, but he is unable, as she is aware, to disobey the rules of isolation which he himself has ordered. It would be most unseemly for the Prime Minister to be seen contravening his own diktats. Your ardent servant, M.’_

_-xox-_

_‘Indeed. But only if he were to be seen, surely. V.’_

_-xox-_

_‘I must urge cautioned reason. It could cause great danger to Your Majesty were I to pick up this damnable illness and pass it to you. I would not forgive myself. W.’_

_-xox-_

_‘Oh, hell take it all! I am in far more danger of losing my mind!’_

She heard no more that afternoon. Victoria paced. She sat. She paced again. She tried to read but could not. She went out into the gardens but the flowers held no charm for her.

She came back inside, picked up Dash, and sobbed into his warm furry body.

Tea was brought to the study at four o'clock, but she had lost the appetite even for that.

It all seemed so terribly, terribly hopeless. How could she survive without him?

_Tap tap._

She darted her head to the window. There, standing on the terrace, was Lord M.

For a moment she could only stare. She was so utterly dumbfounded at seeing him.

But, coming to her senses at last, she rushed across and flung the glass doors back for him. She almost flung herself upon him, but he took several steps back from her and inclined his head. ‘Ma’am.’

‘Lord M! Oh, Lord M, it is so very, very good to see you!’

His eyes darted about as they did when he was at odds. ‘Yes, well, Ma’am … I should not be here.’

‘But the streets are empty, you will not have been seen.’

He conceded it. ‘And, admittedly, I was most furtive and walked with my head down with this scarf covering most of my face.’ He indicated a length of silk with a smirk.

‘So you were incognito?’

‘Indeed,’ his smirk deepened.

'And the scarf provided protection from the miasma.'

'Ma'am, you know I don't believe you can catch this disease from bad air. That notion is most antiquated.'

‘You normally like the antiquated, Lord M.'

'Not in this case, Ma'am.'

Victoria beamed. 'Oh, Lord M, you have cheered me so! Oh, come in, come in!’

But he did not move. ‘No, Ma’am, I cannot do that. That would be foolish and against the rules.’

‘But we make the rules, Lord M! And so make a rule to come in and see me.’

‘What if I have the sickness, Ma’am?’

‘Do you feel as if you do?’

‘No, but the doctors suspect that one can harbour it without realising –‘

She would persist. ‘But who have you been in contact with in recent days?’

He considered her and could only acknowledge: ‘No one. I sent my valet away over a week ago. I have been fending for myself. It’s been strangely liberating, in truth.’

‘Well then, you do not have the sickness and neither are you harbouring it. I am the same. Save for Skerrett who remains hidden away with me, I have not been near a soul for weeks. And therefore, I command you to come in.’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Command?’

‘Indeed.’

He sighed. ‘Ma’am, this is foolish and irresponsible. If any harm came to you -’

She pursed her lips and declared: ‘Lord M, if anyone is to give me this thing, then let it be you.’

‘Ma’am …’

This time she came close to actually stamping her foot. ‘Oh, stop ‘Ma’am’ing me and come in!’

With a sigh, he stepped towards her. She was good and stepped back, maintaining the distance which was advised between them.

But she smiled, a broad, beaming smile. He was here again, in her study.

‘Aren’t you going to kiss my hand, Lord M?’

‘Not today, Ma’am, that would be unwise.’

She gazed at him, as handsome and enchanting as ever. ‘Why did you come now?’ she asked tenderly.

‘I detected a certain desperation in your tone.’

‘You were right, but you didn’t have to indulge me.’

‘Oh, Ma’am, I would not like to think of you as being miserable, besides …’

‘Besides what?’

‘I … found myself missing you too.’

She blushed. ‘Did you?’

‘Well, yes, but … I had no dispatches to bring.’ He held his empty hands out uselessly. ‘Parliament has been shut down and therefore there was nothing.’

‘Is that the only reason you like to see me? To bring me dispatches?’

His mouth ticked in amusement. ‘No, Ma’am, you know it isn’t.’

‘How did you get into the gardens?’

‘Over the walls.’

She gasped in surprise. ‘How terribly wicked! Did anyone see you?’

‘No. I used to do similarly when getting back into College after late nights of … discussing world business. I was pleased that my skills had not left me, although I am most grateful for the conveniently placed elm adjoining the south wall.’

Victoria laughed with delight. ‘How I wish I had witnessed this!’

‘Oh, no, Ma’am, how I am glad you did not. And I do not think my thighs will thank me tomorrow.’

Victoria swallowed. Lord M mentioning his thighs did strange things to her.

He stood as always, hands clasped behind him, eyes slightly averted, that quixotic half smile on his face.

‘Lord M …’ she said, no more, her heart almost bursting with happiness at having him near her again.

‘Ma’am?’ A quirk of the eyebrows.

‘Nothing, I … it is so very good to see you, that is all.’

He said nothing but his eyes met hers. ‘And you, Ma’am.’

They shared the softest smile.

‘I must declare you are looking most well, Ma’am. Is that a new gown?’

She felt her cheeks tinging pink. ‘Not especially, but I have not worn it in a while. Mama finds the cut a trifle daring.’ She became suddenly aware that her cleavage was more prominently displayed than usual. She glanced at him. Indeed, his eyes were no longer locked with hers but focused on the place in question. But instead of shame, she felt a surge of sudden pleasure.

‘Do you like it?’

He drew in a breath and dragged his eyes upwards. ‘Yes, Ma’am. It is most becoming.’

‘Good. Then I shall wear it more often.’

They were standing no closer than protocol dictated, even at the best of times, but Victoria longed to close the distance between them.

‘Oh, Lord M!’ she exclaimed, wringing her hands together. ‘This pestilence business is such a damnable nuisance.’

‘It is a nuisance, but the rules must be adhered to in order to prevent significant deaths.’

 _Significant deaths._ Her heart juddered. ‘Is it that bad, Lord M?’

He averted his eyes and they lost a little of the light. ‘Yes, Ma’am, I’m afraid to say it is,’ he replied gravely.

She felt her eyes grow hot with tears and suspected he had shielded her from the truth. ‘Are you quite honest with me about the figures?’

‘Ma’am … I do not want to cause you undue alarm.’

‘Oh, but I want to know what my people are enduring.’ She turned and threw her head back in exasperation. ‘Oh, how ghastly! Look at me here, I have such space and freedom compared to most. I feel so wretched and helpless.’

He sighed, a genuine sigh of despair. ‘So do I, Ma’am, I, the Prime Minister. It is my job to serve and provide … and I feel utterly impotent. I cannot inform on the science of it. I cannot offer a shelter for those afflicted, as I am prevented. I tried to visit the hospitals but was disallowed.’

She spun back to him. ‘Quite right! It would be ghastly if you were to get ill.’

He scoffed. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps others would do a better job of it than me.’

‘Oh, Lord M! Do not speak so! You are doing all you can. The horror of this disease is that it is an unseen enemy, one that is all-pervasive and unavoidable. It affects us all. It is not your fault at all.’

He smiled softly. ‘You always see the best of me.’

Victoria’s heart surged. ‘That is all there is of you.’

The corner of his mouth ticked in rueful disclosure. ‘How little you know.’

‘But, surely, _surely_ we are well! Look at us! And we have not been close to anyone else for weeks. Skerrett dresses me, but she too is in solitary confinement and not allowed near others. My clothes are washed to within an inch of their life and returned to an outer chamber where she picks them up. It would be more possible for a stone statue of my uncle to catch this infernal thing.’

He laughed. ‘Yes, and, under orders, I have done similar with regard to isolation.’

‘So you are confident neither of us have it?’

He could only concede. ‘I am confident.’

‘Then, surely …?’

‘What, Ma’am?’

‘We can … step a little closer?’

Again, Melbourne hesitated. ‘Ma’am … we should strive to do what is advised.’

‘But … it is you and I, Lord M.’

‘Why does that make a difference?’

‘Because … I have missed you.’

Victoria took a single step closer.

Melbourne did not step back, but he cleared his throat and warned again, ‘Ma’am.’

‘As well as all the strangeness of what we are obliged to do, there is such a strange feeling generally, do you not think?’ she murmured, almost a whisper, so that he was compelled to lean into her.

‘How do you mean?’

‘A sort of … end of days feeling.’

‘Come now, Ma’am, let us not be pessimistic.’

‘But I cannot help but feel so strange. I keep thinking of …’

‘What, Ma’am?’

‘Of all the things I have not yet done.’

‘Ma’am … there will be time aplenty for that. This will pass.’

‘But … what if it does not? We should live each day as if it were the most important day ever, surely?’

She stepped in again. He swallowed again, but, once more, did not draw back.

‘Lord M …’ She was now so close she could drop her voice to that heady whisper she knew he responded to. ‘Why exactly did you come here today?’

‘As I said, Ma’am … you sounded as if you were in need.’

‘I am, Lord M, I _am_ in need. But I am not the only one in need. You scaled the palace wall for me.’

He cleared his throat. ‘I simply didn’t want to get too close to the staff, to spare them and protect myself, you understand.’

‘Quite right but … because of this … no one knows you’re here.’

She took yet another step closer.

He was forced to advise: ‘Ma’am, you are not maintaining the correct distance.’

‘No, Lord M, I am not. And neither are you.’

She was now so close she could touch him. He looked down and his green eyes met her blue.

‘What if it truly is the end of days, Lord M? What if there are all those things left undone, those things left unsaid?

He said nothing. She was now standing so that there was barely any light between them.

‘Is this considered an inappropriately close distance, Lord M?’ she murmured.

‘Yes, Ma’am, most certainly.’ He swallowed.

‘Are we being terribly irresponsible?’

‘Yes, Ma’am, we are.’

‘We are not setting a good example?’

‘We are setting a terrible example.’

‘But there is no one here to see.’

‘No.’

‘And therefore …’ And with this she raised her hands and placed them on his chest.

He drew in a sharp breath but, instead of tensing away, when he exhaled she felt him pressing more into her.

‘Ma’am … this is foolish.’ His voice was now as low as hers, rasping with something beyond hesitation.

‘Foolish, Lord M? In this world? When nothing is as it was? What does foolish even mean?’

‘Ma’am, you are too close to me.’

‘For what, Lord M?’

‘For …’ His Adam’s apple lurched along his neck again. ‘For … minimising risk.’

‘Risk of what?’

‘Of catching the pestilence, of course.’

‘But we have already established that that is not a risk for us.’

‘Perhaps not, but …’

‘So what other risk is there?’

‘A risk of … doing something … rash.’

Her hands were by now sliding up to his shoulders. ‘Rash? I feel as if doing rash things is all one can do at this time.’

‘Ma’am, this is most unconventional.’

‘For whom?’

‘A Queen and her Prime Minister.’

‘But we are also a man and a woman who …

‘Who what?’

‘Who _feel_ …’

‘Feel?’

‘Yes.’ Her hands had curled themselves behind his neck and she pressed herself against him, flush against him, as she had longed to do since she could remember. And he did not pull back. ‘So close …’

‘Close,’ he murmured back.

And it was he who then moved. Not hurrying, but now assured, Melbourne placed his hands on her waist and held her tight against him, then, lowering his head, he pressed his lips to hers.

And nothing else mattered. All the worry and strangeness of the world around them vanished. It was just them.

His hands rose to her head and he deepened the kiss and she was floating, rising up into a mist of pleasure and wonder.

Her Lord M, here, now, kissing her.

She waited for the shame; it did not come. She expected confusion; it did not hit. She wondered if there would be doubt; but no.

She pressed herself yet harder against him and kissed him back, not as an innocent who had only wondered, but as someone who wanted and would take.

Melbourne broke away briefly and rested his head on her forehead.

‘This is madness.’

‘Yes, yes, it is, and so it shall be. The world has gone mad, William, let us simply join it.’

And with that, whether it was what she said, or her calling him by his name, he was back to kissing her. And more now, his hands slid down, finding her breasts, running over them, feeling them, rubbing them, and never had anything felt so unfeasibly good.

She moaned into his kiss and he slipped his tongue into her mouth and found hers. She gave back. And he was moving her backwards, back until they came across the chaise and he laid her down along it with him atop her. And his hands were over her and his kisses grew hungrier and full of need.

‘God, Victoria,’ he slurred, and something in his voice made such glorious things happen to her that she could only moan in response. He was kissing along her neck until he reached her collar bones, then down further over the rise of her breasts.

‘Don’t stop, don’t stop that, please,’ she implored. ‘I love that, I love that so much.’

It seemed he couldn’t stop. His hands were on her, grasping and rushing over her, finally free to do so. He grabbed the top of her gown and pulled it down to expose more of her breast and he pressed his mouth to the soft flesh in near desperation. But soon, his breath ragged and his voice rough, he lifted himself off, still lying atop her but no longer kissing.

‘No, no, what are we doing? No, Victoria, my darling, I cannot, I cannot.’

But he had called her his darling; he had called her Victoria, and that only made her want more.

‘ _My_ darling,’ she repeated back to him. ‘This is who we are, this is what we need. Who knows what the future will bring, what tomorrow will bring even? My darling, you called me – you are mine, you are mine completely. If we don’t do this, I shall never be able to get through this. I told you, it is like the end of days. If this is to be one of our last, then we must not regret.’

He looked at her with such tormented solemnity that it made tears come to her eyes, but in the next moment, he was back to her, kissing her with a ferocity which robbed her of breath, almost tearing at her clothes.

‘Stand up,’ Melbourne slurred, tugging her into an upright position. He moved quickly behind her and began releasing the hooks on her gown. Victoria held her breath. It was happening. It really was happening.

And she was euphoric.

‘Yes, yes,’ she urged. ‘Oh hurry, hurry, my darling.’

‘If we do this,’ he said, his voice muddied but underpinned with determination, ‘it must remain a secret for all time, between just you and I, and, forgive me, but I need to know … when did you last bleed?’

She stuttered a little at the starkness of the question. ‘Why do you ask me that?’

‘I am sorry to have to, but please tell me.’

‘Over two weeks ago. I am due in only a few more days.’

‘That is something at least.’

‘Why?’

‘Ma’am … it would be most ill-seeming for the Queen of England to become with child.’

‘Oh, gosh, yes.’ She had quite forgotten that possibility and felt like an utter fool. ‘So … it is alright to do it now?’

‘By amazing luck … yes.’ She could hear the relief in his voice. ‘And therefore, turn around.’

During the course of this conversation, he had managed to remove both her gown and her corset and she had barely realised it, but she now stood in only chemise and drawers in front of her Prime Minister.

He turned her in his arms and she stood quite bold before him. Melbourne simply looked upon her for some time. She could feel the little buds of her nipples standing straight out in the cool air and knew that they would be prominent under the thin cotton. Indeed, his eyes fell to them immediately and his hands with it. Through the material he stroked and held both breasts, cupping them, squeezing the slightest amount to make her gasp.

‘Are you scared?’ he asked, gently but with curiosity.

She shook her head, but perhaps she was a little.

‘You are so very beautiful.’

‘As are you.’

He scoffed and his thumbs caught the nipples, making her gasp again. His scoff turned to a smile. ‘Do you like that?’

She bit her lip and nodded. So he did it again, grazing over the hardening buds, rubbing the cotton over them until they were so sensitive she almost begged him to stop … or for more? She could not tell. Such new sensations were brewing inside her that she was bewildered yet excited beyond reason.

But at that moment he bunched the material in his hands and tugged it up. ‘Raise your arms.’

She did so, and in a smooth motion, he lifted her chemise clean from her. She was naked before him from the waist up.

Her immediate instinct was to bring her hands before her and hide herself.

‘Don’t,’ he said, sharp. ‘You are beautiful. You have nothing to hide.’

And so with dispelled timidity, she lowered her hands and stood before him. He approached, his head quirked the tiniest amount to the side, the slightest smile on his face and kissed her again, so slowly she wondered if he would ever stop. But in the midst of his perfect kiss, his hands slipped down to the laces on her drawers and before she knew it he had released them and the material pooled at her feet. And then, before she was scarce aware it was happening, his hand was slipping down, down, until it rested in that warm, secret place only she knew of.

She drew back with a gasp but his fingers were certain. ‘Uh uh,’ he murmured, and went back to kissing her doubts away.

He touched her. Right there. And – ‘Oh!’

He was guiding her back again and laid her down on the chaise before lying beside her, his hand still holding her tight.

‘Lie still, breathe steadily, look at me.’

How could she not?

So she lay there and let him ply and pluck and draw such incredible feeling from her that she almost sobbed. Oh, what was that? Was that real? Should she feel shame? Should she push him away?

She only clung to him. She reached down and encircled his wrist, ensuring his hand did not leave her.

‘Oh, you _do_ like that,’ he murmured.

‘How do you know?’

‘I can feel how much you want me, how wet you are on my fingers.’

His words made her blush, but she pushed onto him for more. ‘Oh, that is good, that is so very good.’

He smirked. ‘It gets better.’

And it did.

His fingers were circling and building something beyond reckoning and then suddenly, shockingly, there … _oh, there!_

Victoria stared at him, her eyes gaping in amazement, her body rigid with the unfathomable beauty that rolled and cascaded through her.

_Oh, how, how? Why?_

So many questions without answers, so many answers never before needed.

She lay slack afterwards, and he lay beside her, staring into her.

‘I told you it got better,’ he said.

‘I … I don’t know what to say,’ she breathed out.

‘You need not say anything.’

‘But … there is more?’

‘If you wish it … Ma’am.’

‘You know I do, Lord M.’

He glanced down. ‘You still have your stockings on.’

‘Oh, should I …?’ She reached down to remove them, but he took her hands and held them.

‘No, leave them … I like them. Now …’

With that, he stood and began to remove his own clothing. Victoria watched, and, for the first time, became embarrassed. She was lying quite naked (save for stockings) before him, he had just done unmentionable things to her, and yet the simple act of seeing him discard his cravat made her blush like never before.

But it wasn’t just his cravat he discarded.

First his boots, and then his coat and waistcoat, and then his breeches and the rest so that all that remained was his shirt, which she almost wished he would retain as it was, after all, rather fine. But with barely a pause he took hold of it and pulled it off over his head.

And there it was.

She did stare, it has to be said, but you must allow her, given the magnitude of the occasion.

It stood quite upright and long. And thick. And firm. It was, she conceded, everything she had imagined and more (and she had imagined many times).

She wanted.

Victoria lay back again, stretched out her body wantonly, and said, ‘I am ready.’

Melbourne came and lay over her again, struggling to contain his own need. ‘Are you sure? Tell me now for I cannot hold back otherwise, my darling.’

‘I am ready, I have said it.’

And so he moved her legs a little further apart and placed himself between them.

'Do you know how long I've dreamt of this?' he asked softly, stroking her there again. She was so in need she whined but shook her head in response.

'It is shameful. When I watched you at your coronation, when I noted your composure and strength and determination ... that night I wanted you. I wanted to feel you and know you. I wanted to be inside you, Victoria.'

He had replaced his fingers with the smooth head of his manhood. 'Please ...' she whispered. Her body seemed to be screaming out for him.

'It will hurt,' he muttered, glancing down at where he was about to penetrate her.

'I don't mind. It will be good hurt.'

'Yes, my love ... I will make it good. Now?' he asked. 

She nodded.

And so he pressed forward.

Melbourne was gentle, she knew that. He looked down at her, holding himself back. It did not hurt yet, in fact, she just wanted more of it.

‘Oh, please,’ she sighed out and stroked his arm to urge him on. 'Please be inside me.'

And with that, he swallowed and, bracing himself on the chaise, thrust forward.

‘Oh!’ That time it did hurt. He was so big and he was inside her now, deep and hard and full. And he had pushed through and it hurt but he was there and that was all that mattered.

Melbourne muttered ‘Christ!’ but she forgave him immediately.

She never knew she could feel so full.

He looked down and began to pull back. She winced for it stung, but after withdrawing a way he pushed back in again and she was glad of it.

‘Am I hurting you?’ he asked. ‘I am sorry.’

‘It doesn’t matter. You feel so wonderful, there inside me at last.’

‘I have to move. You are heaven.’

‘Do so then.’

He began a slow rhythm, working inside her, stroking as carefully as he could. It hurt at first, but she was able to ignore it and focus instead on the sublime wonder of him filling her. They established a push and pull which quickly defined them, and the air seemed to still about them. For a time he simply moved in her, eyes locked, but eventually he drew up, still deeply embedded, and, in amazement, she watched as he bent to take a nipple in his mouth.

She inhaled sharply, but held him there. His tongue rolled and licked around the nub, and he sucked on it with such tenderness that she could only sigh in bliss. And then, when he at last let it pop from his mouth, he reached down to that same place he’d found earlier.

She moaned allowed and moved for more.

‘Yes, yes, there, oh, please, yes,’ she sighed.

He chuckled a little.

‘What? Am I doing wrong?’

‘No, far from it. I’m amazed at how immediately responsive you are.’

‘Oh, I love it, I love this!’

He bent and kissed her again. ‘My God, Victoria, so do I. How long I’ve dreamt of this, wondered what it would feel like to be inside you …’

‘How does it feel?’

‘It is my everything, it is my all. I could live in you, I want to live in you.’

She clung to him and soon enough, as he worked inside her and his fingers continued to coax, that same sensation as before took her again, although this time, with him full and deep within, it was stronger than ever and seemed to grow from hardness of him inside her.

She cried out loudly this time, she could not help it.

‘Oh, Christ, the feel of you!’ he said but his last words were lost in a groan of ecstasy. His eyes closed and his neck strained. He kept pumping within her but then slackened suddenly with a gasp and fell panting upon her.

And she was triumphant.

Victoria drew her arm over his back and ran her hand along it slowly.

Eventually, Melbourne drew himself up and looked down, concern now re-etched on his face. ‘Are you alright?’

She smiled and nodded. ‘I have never been better.’

‘You are amazing.’ He kissed her softly. ‘You are incredible.’

‘As are you, Lord M.’

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘I am not entirely sure such relations between the Queen and her Prime Minister are covered in the Constitution.’

She giggled. ‘Then we should draw up our own private little Constitution, just for us.’

‘This damnable sickness has at least achieved something of note, Ma’am.’

‘Indeed it has. Are we back to Ma’am already, Lord M?’

He kissed her again and whispered against her lips, ‘No, Victoria … my beautiful, glorious, wonderful Victoria.’

He moved in such a way that caused some discomfort and she flinched against it.

‘Oh, my love, I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘No, no, it’s alright.’

He glanced down and withdrew carefully. ‘There is some blood, only a little, but we must be cautious. Take my handkerchief.’

She manoeuvred herself upright. She was tender, there was no doubt, but the only thing she could think of was having him again. She missed him inside her already.

They both dressed again in silence, the moment too sacrosanct to break, but when they were fully clothed, she looked over hopefully. ‘Can you stay here awhile?’

He replied with a sigh. ‘I am supposed to be quarantined at Dover House. I fear I have broken enough rules. As it is, I –‘

And there was a sudden knock at the door. They both froze, aghast. She had not locked it.

The door opened and Penge came in. Only the slightest surprise captured his world-weary face before it settled into one of detached acceptance.

‘Prime Minister.’ The butler inclined his head a tad.

Melbourne swallowed. ‘Penge … good day.’

‘I was … not expecting to see you here, My Lord.’

‘No, no, of course not. But I had urgent business with Her Majesty.’

Penge’s eyes narrowed briefly. ‘I do not recall admitting you.’

‘No, indeed. I did not wish to risk imparting the sickness to anyone so I … I came in through the gardens.’

The butler’s gnarly eyebrows rose briefly but discernibly. ‘The gardens, My Lord?’

‘That’s right. The gardens.’

‘And how did you gain access to the gardens?’

‘I … I climbed.’

‘You _climbed_?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see.’ The two men appraised each other for a time before Penge turned to the Queen quite normally and said, ‘Ma’am … I came to inquire if there is anything you require.’

‘Umm … no, I … I think I am quite well at the moment, thank you, Penge.’ She became suddenly aware of her hair half falling from its clasps and stupidly brought a hand up to try to curl it back.

Penge cleared his throat and addressed Melbourne again. ‘Prime Minister … I trust you have been quarantined – according to your own instructions – for a good long time, and that this visit was … essential.’

‘Absolutely essential, Penge.’

‘I am pleased to hear it, My Lord.’

He turned to go at last, but at the door stopped, and turned back. ‘But, of course …’

‘Yes?’ inquired Melbourne.

‘This does of course mean that you must now stay here.’

‘Stay?’

‘Indeed. You could not possibly risk venturing out again. Once can be considered essential … twice would be deemed … _imprudent_ , as you are, after all … Prime Minister.’

The Queen and Melbourne looked at each other, amazement etched on both their faces.

‘I shall have one of our resident maids make up a room for you. The staff employed here are currently living in and rarely, if ever, come into contact with any from the outside, you need not fear. However, I would ask that you keep to yourself for a week. Although … as you have already seen Her Majesty, I imagine it would be possible for you to continue visits with her.’

Victoria was aware that her mouth was hanging open but could do nothing to stop it. In the course of a minute her butler had discovered them, excused them and enabled them to continue in what they were doing.

She wanted to rush over and hug him, but, obviously, the Prime Minister’s rules did not allow it.

‘Mr Penge?’

‘Your Majesty?’

‘Thank you for your … understanding.’

He bowed to her. ‘Desperate times, Ma’am … desperate times.’

The door at last shut on them.

She and Melbourne turned to each other.

‘My God, that was a curious thing,’ Melbourne breathed out, his relief evident.

She let out a sharp laugh of amazement. ‘And … here we are together, duty bound.’

‘Duty bound, Ma’am.’

‘Duty bound to … do this.’ She reached up and kissed his right cheek. ‘And this.’ His left. ‘And this.’ His mouth.

‘And this.’ He continued, drawing a hand up to find her breast. ‘And this.’ Running his thumb over her bottom lip and slipping it into her mouth. ‘And this.’ Reaching under her gown and catching the nipple so that she sighed with pleasure.

‘Do you know?’ he said, holding her close and attending to kissing her again. ‘This quarantine business may be tolerable after all.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, another chapter. 
> 
> This chapter is a bit of a lust splurge. After all, what else is there to do in these curious days. I hope you don't mind ... ;-)
> 
> And I LOVE writing from Melbourne's pov. 
> 
> Stay home. Stay safe. Read Vicbourne.
> 
> x

Penge directed Melbourne to his room, a room as far removed from the rest of the palace as it was possible to be.

In the sickness, the staff numbers had been significantly reduced, and there appeared to be nobody around: no footmen in the corridors, no maids attending to flowers. Melbourne made his way to the room entirely unnoticed. He was sure his presence would be marked at some point, but at least the gossips could be held off for a night or so.

On reaching the room, he went in and locked the door, sitting himself down on a chair and releasing the longest sigh of amazed but thrilled satisfaction.

He stared absently ahead, memories and images of the last few hours playing through his mind.

_He had had her._

My God, what a phrase to employ, but one which seemed to suit the extraordinariness of the situation.

How long had he imagined doing so? How long had he dreamed of being inside that soft, warm, adoring body?

And today it had happened.

It was only then that a wash of shame overcame him and he shut his eyes and felt his breathing grow tight.

Damnation, was he the worst kind of man? Defiling an innocent virgin in that way! Taking advantage of his own Queen, he, the Prime Minister!

He turned instinctively for the decanter of brandy which sat conveniently on the side table beside him and, after pouring himself a large measure, took a considerable gulp of it.

The liquid burned down his gullet, but he needed it. He allowed it to wash some of the shame away.

An innocent virgin … Virgin, certainly, but innocent? He smirked to himself as he remembered her brazen need and encouragement, the way her body rose to meet him thrust for thrust, the way she took him desperately inside her, the way she sought out the pleasure he so willingly bestowed.

_Oh, she had had him as much as he had had her._

She had practically demanded it, he told himself. For she had …

But then …

Was it not the duty of a gentleman to advise against wilfully reckless behaviour?

He downed more brandy. The sight of her naked breasts appeared in his vision, the way her eyes had widened when he’d squeezed her nipples, the way she had urged him on for more … And his cock stirred.

He wondered when he could have her again.

_Hell take it!_

Melbourne cursed himself. What was he becoming? He had had more women than he could number, many of them virgins, but none had wrought in him this curious feeling of guilt mixed with total and utter devotion.

God, how he adored her. What woman, save Caro in those heady days of their early relationship, had drawn such love from him? For it was that, he knew, he would admit that now. Here, as his time on earth turned towards twilight, this young woman had embroidered love on every part of his soul.

He could not let it go. For Melbourne, despite his best intentions, had always retained an unassuming entitlement which could not be shaken. He had endured so much hardship, after all, was he not allowed a little happiness in his latter years?

He finished the brandy and poured himself another glass.

As the clock struck eight, there was a knock, and Penge informed him from behind the door that he was leaving supper outside on a tray. He thanked the butler and, after hearing the footsteps retreat, went and brought it in.

It was a comprehensive supper of soup and fish and chicken, with mousse to conclude, but Melbourne found his appetite for food diminished. He could think of only one thing. She had awakened his libido, he could not deny it, and he had to force himself to drink the beef consommé to try to dispel his constant erection.

Time passed, although he seemed to achieve nothing. He had no will to read, nor to write. He simply sat and remembered and anticipated. He resisted touching himself, perhaps he would later in bed.

But he found he could not get himself out of the chair, so distracted was he by the intensely erotic scenes running through his mind.

The clock struck eleven. He really should consider washing and retiring properly for the night.

But ten minutes later, without him having moved, there was another knock at the door.

He wondered at first if was Penge come to pick up his tray, and called over, ‘Who is it?’

At first he heard nothing and so he asked again, ‘Who is there?’

There answered the faintest – and not a little frustrated – voice: ‘It’s me, of course!’

Victoria. His heart leapt and his cock with it.

He rose from the chair with all the alacrity he had failed to summon earlier.

Melbourne unlocked the door and opened it a small amount. There outside was Victoria, clad in a hooded cloak. His face cracked into a smile, ‘Hullo, You Of Course.’

She managed a soft smile, and he detected a blush of embarrassment, even in the gloom of the barely lit corridor.

‘Aren’t you going to let me in?’ she asked.

‘That depends on what you intend to do when you’re inside, Ma’am.’

‘Oh, I’m sure we can work out something conducive to us both, Lord M.’

And with that, he opened the door wider and she slipped inside. My God, he could take her and be inside her within a few seconds, such was the obscene lust which had suddenly overcome him. But he restrained himself by focusing on locking the door slowly and surely.

And only then did he turn around to face her.

‘Ma’am … it has been a mere few hours since we last … spoke.’

‘And yet, I found myself missing you, and then I realised that you were in fact in the palace and therefore …’

‘Therefore …?’

She opened her mouth to explain further but then her brows danced in that little jig of bewilderment they sometimes did and she said quite forcefully, ‘Stop talking and kiss me.’

And who was he to refuse his Queen?

It took only three paces to reach her. He took her head in his hands, angled it up to him, took a moment to relish the anticipation, then brought his mouth to hers with an urgency that made her take a step of adjustment.

But she needed nothing else. Her hands curled up around his neck and she pulled him into her, matching his force.

She had arrived at his room swathed in a cloak, and he quickly unhooked the clasp and tossed it aside. Underneath she wore nothing but her nightgown, and, as he soon established, it was translucent with the light from the fire behind it. He drew back for a time to admire her outline beneath it.

‘Most fetching … Ma’am,’ he teased, knowing how she liked him calling her that.

It was her turn to start removing his clothes. She pushed his already unbuttoned waistcoat from his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. ‘I hope you will not require me to keep it on all night, Lord M?’

She had her answer when he took hold of it and lifted it off her smoothly and swiftly.

She gave a little whine – music to his ears – and pushed up his shirt, bringing her head to his naked chest and planting kisses all across it. He stared down, his breath ragged, and threaded his fingers through her hair, which was loose and free.

‘God … God, Victoria,’ he murmured, almost incredulous at her conviction and boldness.

And now her hand found him, already hard and desperate for release. On cue, she undid the placket and slipped her hand inside to curl her fingers around his lividly erect cock.

‘Fu -!’ he said, a relic from his misspent youth, not a word he had used much since, but one which now slipped out unbidden, propelled with reckless delirium. He managed not to enunciate the final consonant, although he wasn’t sure Victoria would have noticed or minded if he had.

Together they moved towards the bed and he fell back against it as she came to lay beside him, her hand still wrapped around him.

She was stroking him ardently, but, if truth be told – and he would forgive her anything, needless to say – it could do with a little lubrication.

He winced a little, and this caused her to look up in alarm. ‘Am I doing it wrong?’

He shook his head. ‘No, no, my love, it’s only that …’

‘What?’

‘It is better if wet.’

She withdrew her hand quickly. ‘I see. But of course, how foolish of me. Oh dear, I have not hurt you, have I?’

Her concern was touching. ‘No,’ he laughed. ‘You could never hurt me. Just … use … saliva.’

‘I see.’ She considered for a time, said, ‘Like this?’ and then with almost no hesitation dropped her head and closed her mouth around it.

‘ _Jesus_ _Christ_!’

She drew back suddenly in shock. ‘Lord M! You blaspheme! I am shocked!’

The Queen of England had just taken his cock in her mouth, and _she_ was the one who was shocked?

‘Victoria … Ma’am … I apologise … I was quite overcome, but …’

‘What? You said to use saliva. Is that not right?’

‘Well …’ _How to answer that one?_

‘Tell me.’ She was so very insistent.

‘I only meant to spit on your hand, but …’

‘But …?’

‘You can … do … that … if you so choose.’

‘It would seem to me to be effective if you wish it to be wet.’

Her reasoning was so plain that he could not argue. ‘Quite.’ 

‘And I find myself rather taken with the idea.’

‘In that case … I shall not stop you.’

So Victoria closed her mouth around the head again and he was in heaven.

She was, as they say, a natural. She did not hold back and went at him with tongue and lips with a fervour, a hunger even, which staggered him. He moaned aloud, for how could he not, and stared down as her dark head bobbed along him with an instinctive approach needing little guidance.

At times he told her to slow as else he would come off suddenly, but the moment was so sacrosanct, so utterly perfect, that he was able to hold off his pleasure and enjoy every lick and suck and tugging pull of her lips. She mewled as she did so, and he considered for a moment that perhaps he did in fact deserve this, for she was clearly enjoying it as much as him.

She broke off after a while and grinned up, her lips swollen and her face flushed from the effort.

‘Shall I continue? I do declare my jaws are aching a little.’

He chuckled and drew her up to him, kissing her deeply. ‘No, my darling, you have excelled yourself. My God, you amaze me.’

‘Did I do well?’ she asked, her eyes wide with hope.

He felt his own eyes grow suddenly hot; tears threatened and he swallowed quickly to dispel them. ‘You did outstandingly. You are perfect … you are perfect.’ He kissed her again and was able to keep further tears at bay.

‘Will you come inside me again now? I long for that so much.’

He stroked her face. ‘Of course, but it may still smart a little.’

‘I don’t mind. It no longer pains, so I shall hope for the best.’

He smiled and kissed her again and then, heady with erotic determination, he moved her so that she was lying before him face down. Kneeling behind her, he took hold of her hips and pulled her up.

She gasped. ‘What …?’ she asked, bewildered.

He stroked her hips. ‘Shh … wait and see … Just because the goal remains the same, it does not mean it cannot be achieved by a variety of means.’

His fingers found her slit and dipped up into her quim. She was dripping already and he took pride in it. She didn’t see him raise his fingers to his mouth and suck her juices from them. Nectar itself was not nearly as good. He did it again, pushing two fingers deep up inside her and working them there for a time, making her keen and whine and push back onto him, before removing them and sucking hard on them. He considered briefly going down on her, such was the taste of her, but he would save some surprises for another time. After all, this quarantine could endure for such a very long time; he almost shuddered in anticipation.

‘More …’ she murmured. ‘Fill me.’

Melbourne considered in that moment that she was quite possibly one of the most needy and assured women he had ever had, and that was saying something. And she, the Queen of England!

But, luckily for her, he was more than willing (and indeed able) to satisfy that need. And so, throwing hesitation aside, Melbourne took hold of her hips, positioned his cock, and with a harsh grunt of intent, drove hard inside her.

She would have fallen forwards with the force of it, but he held her upon him, and so the full length of his cock was absorbed in her in one go. She gasped out with the shock of it, but, he reminded himself, she had asked for it, after all.

‘Yes!’ she said, loud and clear, and so he drew back and did it again. My God, there had never been anything so tight. He could feel her walls pushing back as he surged through, then gripping him with the strength of a hand when he could go no further.

He looked down at where he was embedded in her, the two round spheres of her backside curving into her narrowing waist, urging him to carry on. Nothing ever so perfect.

He proceeded to thrust into her, withdrawing then surging forward. He tried to pace himself, but by now he was too far gone. Her cock sucking of earlier had put him on the knife edge, and now being inside the grip of her hot wetness was too much.

But, Christ, he was forgetting himself. Was he not a gentleman, after all? And so, with the greatest self-restraint, he reached under to find that swollen little nub he was getting to know so quickly, and plucked and rubbed it in time with his strokes. To his delight, he realised that Victoria had taken hold of a breast and was tugging on her nipple with remarkable force.

And she was moaning. God, that sound. Lower than the usual pitch of her voice, she moaned constantly, an earthy, guttural sound of sheer pleasure. This woman was made for him, he concluded at that moment, and he for her.

He would come hard, but he was determined to give her her pleasure first, and so he pushed hard into her, for he knew how much she had already grown to love the stretch of cock in her quim, and focused on slancing fingers over her clitoris.

She writhed on him and he had to dig his fingers into her hips to hold her steady. He wasn’t gentle. She whined but stilled and it made pleasure spike sharply in him.

‘Come on, my girl,’ he said, half to himself, but she heard it and pulled on her nipple.

‘Harder,’ he urged. She liked it, he could tell. He would remember that in future.

She tugged her now hard nipple out further. ‘Good,’ he replied while his fingers continued to rub ever faster over her and he pressed his cock within her just enough to reinforce his presence.

Although he couldn’t see, the angle of her other arm suggested she was giving the other nipple the same treatment. Clever girl. How much more he could show her.

And with that, her back suddenly arched up and she buried her head in the pillow, muffling what would have been an uncontrollable cry of rapture.

She was coming so strongly that he could feel her orgasm on his cock, and with that he started moving again, hard and fast through her body. It seemed to prolong her coming, and she threw her head up suddenly from the pillow and wailed as her orgasm was drawn out further by his pistoning cock.

‘Christ … God Alive!’ he exclaimed, now unable to control himself.

Withdrawing his hand from her clitoris to grip her hips harder than ever, he burst into her, his seed plugging her deep and hot. His own groan was unrestrained and rose to fill the room.

Melbourne’s come endured; lights flashing behind his eyes as if sudden lightning had filled the room. Perhaps it had.

He didn’t want to let go of her. He certainly didn’t want to come out of her, but he wasn’t sure he could remain upright after it at last left him. He was dizzy, light-headed with the force of his climax, and he fell forward a little, resting much of his weight on her and making her slump forward flat onto the bed.

He forced his arms to hold him up so as not to crush her and panted deeply, partly through the effort, partly in amazement.

‘My God, that was … I … My God …’ was all he managed through heaving breaths.

Her eyes were closed, but she had a lazy smile on her face. ‘Lie atop me,’ she said.

And so he did, laying his full weight over hers, but she only seemed to crave it.

‘I like that,’ she murmured, and he kissed her cheek as lay on top of her, his cock still embedded.

‘You are incredible,’ he whispered. ‘Quite incredible.’

‘So are you,’ she replied, and she meant it, he could tell.

He loved her.

‘It’s not always like this,’ Melbourne said. ‘Certainly not so soon.’

‘Then I suppose we are the lucky ones, Lord M.’

_By God, yes, he was a lucky one._

They hummed along for a while, until curiosity got the better of him.

‘You were pinching yourself while I was inside you, pinching those perfect nipples of yours, I mean,’ he remarked.

‘Hmm.’

‘Did you like that? Why did you do it?’

‘I am not sure. I recalled the sensations you brought from them downstairs, and I wondered how it would feel to have that while you were inside me.’

‘And?’

She grinned. ‘It was glorious. It was spectacular. The thing is, I found I needed to be quite brutal with myself, that I wanted that, and that the pain became merely pleasure.’

‘Yes, my darling … that is what happens at these times. Do what you must, do what you want.’

He had at last softened and slipped from her, allowing her to turn over and lie on her back beneath him. ‘Oh, I think I shall, but I am rather glad that I have you to guide me.’

It was music to his ears.

Despite having expended his sexual force only a few minutes earlier, his mind immediately threw at him all the ways he could guide her. And her breasts were perched so tantalisingly close now, after all.

So he drew down a way, took one in both hands so it was pushed up round and full, and just before he took the nipple between his lips, he glanced up at her, cocked an eyebrow and declared:

‘Ma’am … I remain, as ever, your devoted servant.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts, coherent or otherwise, gratefully received.
> 
> To be continued. x

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a one-shot, but it could be continued if there is an appetite for it. Let me know. x


End file.
